Alms, not arms

Come to think of it, last year wasn't so bad. Really, it wasn't. Think hard and remember, please. For today, you and I would hastily swap last year for this one. That's because 2020 was all about basic and primal fear, even nonchalance, arrogance bordering on the chutzpah. Typically, it boiled down to: 'If I get COVID-19 (or -20), I may have to be hospitalized in a dormitory-like situation for two weeks. I don't want 14 days of captivation and / or deprivation.' Yes, last year, that was our gravest and most-guarded concern. And many ran from hospital quarantines. What a mirthless sham that has turned out to be now, for we would gracefully embrace Year 2020 today.

Year 2021, or should I say 'COVID-21'…

All we care about now is hailing tomorrow; more so as we worry if there will be a tomorrow at all. Cutting to the chase, we are terrified whether we and our family will survive this new wave. A scalding question is whether we should take the vaccine, since even some doctors are getting infected after their second booster dose. Where the hell is the vaccine for Indians, anyway, for we decided to give away 6.5 crore doses to the world as a symbol of our intrinsic philanthropic culture?

The said vaccine has since been gratefully in-punctured and devoured by thankful recipients in Europe and Africa. Like Don Quixote, we ventured on a misled and ill thought-of global rescue mission. 'India saves the world' was our ambition, one that has ended in a rather pathetic manner, leading to purloin, international and subliminal subjugation. Today, we stand exposed, vitiated and violated. So much so, that naked us are opening our arms and legs, seeking alms. Please help us, we beseech, and some of the smallest nations of the world, including the neighbors we have estranged over the last few years, now send us aid offerings.

Truth shall prevail?

Will even now dawn the truth that the procurement of 36 Rafale fighter jets, while necessary, was not the only way to save the country? Especially today, when our people swat flies on the roadside, waiting to die, face-to-face with mortality, gasping for breath… Or as we begin building a Rs 18,000-crore Central Vista to manifest our supremacy and stellar presence in the global scheme of things. Real defense in today's world doesn't come from aerial fire-power; it comes from oxygen, ventilators, concentrators, even simple hospital beds, all of which we just don't have. This is the only true question that burns and singes our core and every withering cell today. Admit it and you and I shall be a step closer to surviving, for we may perhaps move on to tone down the abject scale of the stupidity we have displayed since the pandemic broke out (in?).

These months have been crazy, because we are suddenly seeing too many of our near and dear ones dying. The pain and sorrow that we see is undefined, even unrefined. This perhaps happened because we claimed and declared victory way too soon, idiotically so. Our supreme leaders proudly announced to the world that India had claimed dominance over a diminutive and feeble enemy. The moment we thus ventilated, flagellated and fabricated, our masses ushered in their own means to rejoice, canter and trot. As is ominous in India, Mutton Tikka, Butter Chicken, Daal Makhani and bars-in-cars came back with a vengeance to remind us—all is well.

We had people dancing in the streets and inside bars, accompanied by drunken hoots. It is this lack of sense and utter foolishness for a few shameless months that has 135 crore Indians cowering in their homes today, yet again, petrified and sanitizing everything in sight. We are paying a hefty price, but why are we?

Three-fold fear

Because we each have fear inside us that is three-pronged. One, what if I get COVID-19; two, if I contract the virus, will I manage to find a suitable bed in a hospital; three, what happens if I die? My family won't be able to see me in hospital or even my dead face, as I will be packed and ready for 'departure'. I am being morbid and crass, but this is the grim truth. This is the harsh, new reality.

Back to the moot point, just to highlight the nonsense that pervades our lives today… Our purchase of 36 Rafale aircraft from Dassault Aviation of France (where Prime Minister Narendra Modi scored a win by forcing the inclusion of a 50-per cent 'Offset Clause'); and our subsequent and des-perate outreach to the Russian messiahs for 40 more of their MiGs and Sukhoi fighter aircraft. With these two deals alone, India became the third-largest defense equipment-procurer in the world. All it cost us was around Rs 100,000 crore.

Only Rs 100,000 crore, right? But there are way too many zeros here, as there were in our decision to give away scores of doses of vaccines just to don a temporary mask of largesse, glory and gaiety. What the hell?! But then, we were all inure and cured anyway, right? Yes, we were told by the powers that be. I also personally spoke to tens of people who have taken the first dose of the vaccine and are now worried sick. Their query: "Will I be able to get my second booster dose on time, since we are running out of supplies? Will I survive the first or the second dose?"

Why have we brought this upon ourselves and why did we play God before fending for ourselves? This is a question that no one shall answer. Why? Well, because the few who know the answers have miraculously disappeared over the last few weeks.

Anywhere but here

It is sad but true that a huge mass of people with financial means and wherewithal have fled India. The common refrain even amongst the less well-off is 'anywhere but here'. What does that mean—that I should leave my country and disappear for a while, as the less-endowed die a grisly death? There are stacks upon stacks of pending Visa applications in all Consulates today, especially after the United States and United Kingdom slammed their doors on visitors from 'Red Zone' India till further ado. Citizens of many Developed Nations have been issued travel advisories to avoid India, the land of the Taj Mahal, Khajuraho and Goa.

Things are so bad now that Indians are rushing to any destination that they can find. Leading bureaucrats and film-stars (including porn-stars cel-ebrated by us) are already out of the country and harm's way, waiting for the 'mahamari' to end so that they can return and re-attain their fiefdom. In the meantime, you and I can die for lack of oxygen, ventilators and ICU beds. For them, it will just be a few fans gone—enough left still in 135-crore-strong India.

These celebrities are shameless to the extent that they now repeatedly post their bikini- or less-clad photographs on Instagram and other social media handles. 'Check me out', they hail and wail. Well, I certainly shall, immediately after I cremate my childhood friend or his mother. I shall then check out your biceps, musculature, stack and booty, all while looking at my oximeter and calling up my very own mom to ensure that she is not gasping herself, or dying. Thank you.

When Australia can…

What of Australia, you dare ask, apart from cheating cricketers, leaping Kangaroos and delectable beer? Well, the Kangaroos and beer are still leaping and rooting for the cause, but the cricketers have been made to hibernate in the Maldives, forced to cool their aching IPL cricketing heels in that scenic paradise… because they have been denied entry into their own country. Why so, as also in New Zealand and the United Kingdom?

Well, it is because these super-stars ventured out from their now post-Covid lands to make millions of dollars, living in a five-star bio-bubble, as did a few of our own former cricket stars now-turned commentators. Sure, they provided us with some relief, comic and otherwise, through one month of the pandemic. But the carefully-orchestrated bubble burst, as is won't, and the celebrity cricketers themselves started falling prey to the virus. The fallout—cries of 'I wanna go home' flooded Delhi and Gujarat, where they were bio-huddled as the thunder cracked overhead.

Not so in India. Here, all we had to do was to lock down our country in February or March 2020, in the same way these others are doing now, with enforced 14-day hotel quarantines for anyone entering 'Bharat Mata'. The dreaded Coronavirus pandemic would have been kept out of India for good, before it could touch us. But no, for we just had to Trump-et our way to 'Viveakanunamandalam' before we realized what hit us. And then a US President became 'Doland' Trump.

Shoo. Keep quiet

Many of us who still have the walnuts and cashews to chomp away are now being told to go into silent mode, or else. Shoo. But can we afford to do that anymore, belligerent, scared or any other wise? Nope. We simply have to get, set and go, because those that have the duty and are paid to do so just don't or won't. That's probably why that through a deadly once-in-a-100-years' pandemic, most of the media has been inanely talking about increasing defense and health budgets, reporting on electioneering and mass rallies, citing the 'fake' farmers' agitation, or targeting about replenished oxygen supplies and India's rebounding Gross Domestic Product numbers. Hoorah in the tale (tail?)… State elections, where all has been revealed.

We have gone from bloo, bleep and blah to shoo. So boo to you too, 'oye', shoo, shoo…

Why? Well, because over the last year of the Virus and through many lockdowns, we have been witness to political calisthenics at their most im-possible, as hordes of MLAs from the Indian National Congress and, more recently, the Trinamool Congress (TMC) were coerced to jump ship and embrace a new flag. But West Bengal survived, as did Maharashtra and

Rajasthan, though the latter two by just

the proverbial whisker. West Bengal was a different hue and tone altogether, as Mamata Banerjee and her ilk, especially the women in the State who make up around 50 per cent of the total of 7.33 crore voters, delivered a future-changing, thumping verdict.

Some clues and cues

To repeat, it is not only West Bengal. The last round of assembly elections in five Indian states (sic; Puducherry is a Union Territory) has shown us that Indians today want to have the final say in things again, as they did before but which has been lacking for a while now, for whatever reasons. Patience is running thin and the mood is anything but submissive. That's a welcome delight for it sends out an unambiguous message, one that re-stores our faith in democracy, a trait found wanting for more than a while now. As also in Tamil Nadu and Kerala—for the people here too, to quote Shakespeare, have 'a-spake'.

That was the good part. Now the dirty picture—across West Bengal, Kerala, Tamil Nadu, Assam and Puducherry, repeated rounds of large gatherings were allowed to happen, flouting all tenets of COVID-19 norms and rules, with thousands turning up (or forced to turn up) to listen to the political glitterati who descended upon quiet districts and villages, accompanied by their lackeys and consorts. Today, we see the results—all five electoral hot-spots have been branded as 'COVID-19 hot-spots', with the number of infected people skyrocketing by between 1,000 and 3,000 per cent. Is this the price that we were willing to pay to win the right to rule?

Despite repeated overtures and queries, the powerful just do not embellish us with their insights on the deadly virus that they have forced us to fight. And worse for the country, the international media has turned us into a laughing stock, making India an anathema for visitors—tourists and businesspersons alike.

Betrayed by caretakers

In the midst of all the suffering, tumult and indiscretion, what can really help level the score are enlightened elders of society and a strong media; to guide people, present the true facts and picture, and hold our hand in these tough times. What we have, though, is quite the opposite, as I have written before. Even in such devilish times, the mainline media remains shameless, brazen and unabashed, constantly feeding us audacious levels of rubbish and unsolicited spiel. The fort has been breached. Politicos, communities and the guardian media itself have sunk to embarrassing depths and the picture they present is deeply distorted, blurred and distant from the truth that a worried billion-plus people need to know to survive the pandemic.

For one, I personally do not want to watch 'Exclusives' on how yoga and bovine urine can rid me of the deadly virus, especially when there are no reports on the infected gasping and taking their last few breaths on the road outside an overwhelmed hospital. I don't want to see stories on which State government is going to make it or come asunder, or which MLAs are jumping ship for political or financial gain. I don't want to see the price of petrol or diesel jumping. I don't even care or want to know when IPL 2021 will be resumed and completed, and I certainly don't care where this will happen.

I do care about the World Test Match Cricket Finals, though, and that's only because it gives me some hope and a reason to smile. I care about knowing which hospitals have available beds, oxygen and ICUs, just in case my loved ones or I need to go there. I care about my country recouping the losses that have been notched up in the international scheme of things—prestige, economic prowess, even general perspective and branding.

But do the people who can make a difference care about what I care?

The writer is a communications consultant and a clinical analyst. narayanrajeev2006@gmail.comViews expressed are personal